No Strays in Stark Tower
by arian-irony
Summary: Natasha brings home a girl who can suck the life out of people; Rogue, a runaway and trying to find her place in the world, instantly connects with the Avengers. Do they understand what she's been through? Can they accept her powers? Takes place in the world of X-Men Origins: Wolverine and Avengers. (Crossover * Rogue/Steve Rogers)
1. Chapter 1

"You're new here, aren't you?"

The girl mumbled something into her drink. When she realized the asker hadn't heard, she startled and lifted her head back up, nodding vigorously. "Is it that obvious?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at the crowded bar. As if anyone else here cared who she was or where she spent her babysitting money.

Natasha Romanoff, sweater-clad and off-duty, sighed like a blacksmith's bellows. "Just a little. You stick out like a sore thumb, honey." Her own glass sat untouched by her elbow. She'd had intentions of seriously drinking an hour ago but clearly her conscience wouldn't let her onto the path toward getting shitfaced. She glanced at the girl again. Even now, confronted by a vaguely maternal, older figure she should have recognized, should have shrunk from or stared at with big longing cow eyes like all the other teenagers around here, she stared sullenly into her beer, her cheeks slightly red with the cold from the open door and a touch of intoxication.

She didn't take care of strays. That was her first and only rule since coming to New York. Not enough room in her apartment. But something about the profile of the girl's face, the angles and lines, the hard corners, the long eyelashes so out of place, long white-striped hair raked back savagely from a dirty neck- all of it hit home. She reached across the empty stool between them and tapped the girl on the shoulder.

"Hey." The girl looked up, blinking slowly. There was an age to her eyes that Natasha hadn't noticed before. The circles beneath them had been there for years. "Do you need anything? Money, food-" _\- a bed?_

"I'm fine." The girl stared at her a moment longer before looking back down. "Thank you though." Her foot was beginning to tap, gloved hands clutching her glass tighter and tighter- that anxious anticipation before a run that she recognized from her own days of running from place to place. Sleeping behind dumpsters. Hell, eating out of dumpsters. She did a lot with dumpsters back in the day.

"Well, if you change your mind…" She leaned back into her own space and picked up her glass. She really needed to stop reaching out to strangers. Someday she would end up inviting an assassin into her apartment meaning to give them a free bath and then what would happen next? Well there would be a dead assassin in her apartment, that's what would happen next.

She drained her glass. The wine was warm, but it went down smooth all the same.

The next few hours passed by in a blur. She had a few more drinks, talked to a couple of regulars she knew, signed some postcards for a couple of Indian tourists- by the time two a.m. rolled around, her mind was pleasantly fuzzy and she felt ready to go home and roll right into bed. She stood, thanking the bartender and throwing a ten dollar bill in the tip jar. Her tab was always covered by one of the others, but the tips were the least she could do, when she had the money.

The night air was cool and refreshing. She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her coat and trudged through the snow to the curb. Her little Toyota was modest, and blended in to the streets relatively well- unlike Tony's unbelievably gaudy vehicles of choice. The latest that sprang to mind was one styled after the old Batmobile from some animated TV show. He couldn't drive that one everywhere but the splurge alone was enough to rile her up.

She was thinking up new ways to insult the damn thing, fumbling her key in the lock, when she heard a muffled shout from the alley behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. She looked back. The alley was pitch black, the only point of light the tiny flame of a cigarette lighter being held under someone's nose. Lit up in the light of that flame was the streak of white hair on that girl she'd seen in the bar.

Slowly, she put her key away and put her hands back in her pockets, and headed for the alley. As she got closer, she could see four men surrounding the girl, two with guns. The guns didn't worry her, but the blatant rage in the girl's eyes did. She slipped a hand into her purse, intending to draw her own gun to threaten the bozos- but the girl was quicker.

She stuck out both hands, somehow ungloved and extended in less than a second, and clapped them on to Lighter's face. He shrieked with pain and collapsed, bringing her down with him. The guy closest to her on the right tried to kick her, but she let go of one of Lighter's cheeks and grabbed his ankle, and he fell down too. Both men were convulsing but the girl seemed to be fine, if breathing a little heavily.

The other two men fled.

Natasha raced into the alley and knelt in the snow beside the girl. She was lying on her back, panting, her face flushed and glazed with sweat. She gazed unseeing at the sky. The men lay on either side of her, veins standing out on their skin. Neither were breathing.

"Oh, god," Nat whispered, reaching to touch the girl's arm but thinking better of it. Instead, she took out her phone and called the first number in her contacts. "Tony? I need a favor. I'm afraid it's an emergency. No, don't send a helicopter- I just need a faster car. And three body bags."

###

Thankfully, there wasn't anyone else in the Tower when they arrived except Tony, pacing in the living room and tapping his chin with the end of his cell phone. When the door opened he turned around, throwing his arms out. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded, striding forward. "One call, a cleanup crew, a van, body bags? Who did you kill this time? I-" He paused, seeing the covered figure in the redhead's arms. "Is that one of the bodies?"

"No." Natasha put the girl down carefully on the couch. She didn't move. She'd put her in one of the body bags with the top unzipped, just so she didn't touch her skin on accident. She didn't know if the power was channeled through skin or just her hands, and she wasn't sure she wanted to find out on accident which one it was. "This is the girl who killed them."

"She did that?" Tony glanced through the pictures Nat had up on her phone, just a cursory glance before returning to stare uneasily at the girl on his couch. "How?"

"I don't know. She just touched them and it was like… she sucked the life right out of them."

"Sick." At Nat's disapproving look, Tony shrugged. "What? It's something I've never seen before, have you? I'll have to look into it. Where are you sending her?"

"She's staying here."

"What?"

"At least until we can figure out what's wrong with her and if she's dangerous to anyone else." _Yeah, Romanoff. That's why you're keeping her here. Not to protect her from herself. From that empty look on a dusty barstool._

"If you say so. Make sure to leave a… sticky note or something on her so Thor doesn't think she's furniture or something and try to put her away." With that, Tony headed back upstairs, leaving Nat alone in the living room with the girl. She was still staring straight up, eyes locked open. Maybe it wasn't a reaction. Maybe it just happened.

Whatever it was, better she did it in here than out on the road.

Nat patted the outside of the bag and went into her own room that adjoined the living room, closing the door to just a crack. "Jarvis," she said softly, and a corner of the room lit up with a soft blue light. "Make sure she's alright tonight."

"Will do."

Satisfied, Nat kicked off her shoes and dropped onto her bed. Her last thought before she fell asleep was whether she should have left more money for the bartender.

 **:: Just an idea that came to me that I'm going to roll with! Right now I'm trying to find the rhythm for this story and the character of Rogue. Any tips or criticisms would be greatly appreciated! ::**


	2. Chapter 2

**:: Wow, I'm surprised by the attention this has gotten! Here's the next chapter for those of you who've asked- I'll get more regular soon. As always, if you have any tips or concerns about the characters or story, let me know! I'm still working on finding the right voice. ::**

Natasha woke to the sun streaming in through a half-opened shade. Her door was now closed, the window slightly cracked, judging by the gentle breeze ruffling the hair on her arms. She sat up and wiped the sand from her eyes, rolling both legs out of bed.

Stepping out into the hall, she was met by the sweet, powdery smell of fresh pancakes and the slightly bitter glow of fresh fruit. Thor stood over the commercial stove, busily working with four fry pans. Hunched over the bar, her chin on her forearms, was the girl from the bar. Natasha glanced at her, then went to the kitchen instead and got the orange juice from the fridge.

"Good morning," she said, reaching past Thor's head for a glass. He shifted easily out of the way. "I see you're already busy."

"I've been asking this girl why she's here," Thor said. He didn't look up from the stove- all of his attention was on the strips of bacon sizzling in grease. On a cutting board by the stove was a bowl and a plastic package of raspberries, still wet from being rinsed. "Would you like some?"

"I'm okay." She looked at the girl behind his back. She was sitting in the exact same position, staring at nothing. "Why is she here?"

"She says you brought her here."

Natasha went to the counter in front of the bar. The girl's eyes flicked up, then down, and up again. Natasha held her gaze. "I took you in," she said. "Now you need to tell me what you are."

"-t anything," the girl mumbled.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you."

"I'm not anything."

"Okay." Natasha took a sip of her juice, one finger tapping on the glass as she studied her ward. For that's what the girl was now, wasn't she? She couldn't just leave. Not only would she not feel right letting her back onto the streets, but Tony would have a fit if a new person with superpowers, as he put it, slipped away before he could question them. His fascination with people like Banner, Thor and Rogers was fierce, almost to the point of obsession. Sometimes she wondered about him.

Lifting her chin and snapping back into what Tony jokingly called her "mom voice" (at least when he thought she couldn't hear him) she said, "Well you can't stay here unless we know how you're going to act."

"I don't want to stay here anyway," the girl said sourly.

"Then why are you still here? You could have left this morning before any of us woke up."

"Breakfast," Thor said, carrying the bacon pan to the sink and pouring the strips and grease over a paper-towelled strainer, "is the most important meal of the day. Before beginning any journey, one must take care of themself."

The girl ducked her head against Natasha's raised eyebrows.

"Okay then." She took her orange juice and a magazine to the living room, settling in one of the overstuffed chairs at an angle where she could see the kitchen and the hallway at the same time. The magazine was some men's fitness garbage and she spared it just a glance before tossing it back onto the coffee table.

Thor was talking to the girl again. His voice was gruff as usual, but the amusement in it grew more obvious as he chattered on about eating, and keeping healthy, and how this world had so many different things to eat and had she heard of Sports Illustrated? and the Fitness Manual? They had wonderful tips and even tricks, he said, to staying active. The whole time, he busied himself with drying bacon and sausage, which she hadn't noticed earlier, scrambling eggs, buttering toast, and rinsing some glasses of questionable cleanliness from the other side of the sink.

When he was finally done, he made up three plates and brought one out to Natasha. She took it and thanked him, eyeing the lightly crisped toast and fried egg- he somehow was able to guess how everyone liked their food, and always seemed delighted when they didn't know how to react when he gave it to them. He'd cooked for her before though, and she gave him a small smile, which seemed to be enough, as he turned and went back to the kitchen to feed the girl.

"What's your name?" Natasha asked, filling her fork with egg and sausage.

The girl started, as though she'd forgotten Natasha was there. "Rogue," she said.

"Rogue." _Interesting._ "That's a pretty name."

"It's okay." The response was a reflex. The girl began shoveling food into her mouth.

"Goodness. Take some time to chew."

Thor took his own plate to the counter in front of the bar and ate standing up. They all ate in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the occasional scrape of fork on plate or a cup being picked up and set down. Just as Natasha began to wonder where the rest were, she heard faint footsteps on the floor upstairs. Thor heard them too and he disappeared into the hallway, leaving his half-eaten stack of bacon on the counter. Soon she could hear low voices from upstairs- she could hear them if she really wanted to, but she preferred not to.

"So, Rogue," she said, "where are you from? Do you live somewhere in the city?"

"Why?" Another defensive response. _Used to being grilled._

"Because if you want to get home, you'll need a ride or at least directions. You have no idea where we are and since you have no phone- I checked- you won't be able to map your way around. It's easiest just to tell me so I can get you where you have to go."

The girl ate quietly. Natasha sipped her juice and waited. It wasn't her first rodeo, as some people put it, and she had nothing but patience. The gears clicking in the girl's head could probably be heard the next state over.

"I don't live around here," the girl - Rogue - said. "I'm from the country. Mississippi."

"Mississippi? You're a long way from home."

No reply. Natasha changed tactics.

"Do you have another name? One that isn't code for something?"

The back of the girl's neck turned red, and she turned around, scowling. "No. My name is Rogue."

Natasha nodded, raising a hand in surrender. The girl went back to her food.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs, then in the hallway, and Thor reappeared with Tony on his heels. Tony looked furious but his expression softened a bit when he saw Rogue at the bar.

"Hello!" he said, approaching and sticking out a hand. "Pleasure to meet you. I know we didn't really get to meet each other last night, you know, with you being asleep and all. I'm-"

"-Tony Stark," the girl said. She looked sick. Both elbows were pinned to her sides. Every muscle in her neck stood out like they were carved in wood. "I know who you are."

"You do?" The last of his irritation melted away. "Well. Of course you do." He looked down at his hand, then at her, and took it back with a short laugh. "A joke, obviously." He turned, glimpsing Thor putting the last of the breakfast into Tupperware containers. "Hey! I haven't had any."

The girl tracked him across the room, still not moving, barely even seeming to breathe. She looked like she might snap at any second.

Natasha got up from her chair. The girl stiffened at her touch on her back, but didn't move away. "Tony, this is Rogue. She's going to stay with us for a while."

"I gathered that from the fact that she's sitting in my kitchen, eating my bacon," Tony said, gesturing over his shoulder at her with his plate. "How long is a while?"

"However long she wants."

Thor looked pleased, grinning at the girl. "I still have to show her my magazine collection."

Natasha felt the girl's back relax a little under her hand. "And I have some things to ask her." At that, it stiffened again. She bit back a comment that might either assuage or heighten the fear, and tried to stifle the guilt she felt at making her afraid at all.

"Oh, speaking of things to ask, I have a few questions of my own," Tony said through a mouthful of eggs, "mainly how is it possible that you can actually suck-"

Natasha squeezed the girl's shoulder, and as she did, the image of the men lying in the alley pale and bulging with death flashed through her mind. She was immediately relieved that the girl had a thick leather jacket on, and even beyond that, that the girl didn't seem that angry towards her, in case it was controlled with her mind.

"Later, Tony," she chided, in that special tone she had only for him- the _that's enough_ voice. He promptly petered off into mumbles, munching his way into the hallway on a piece of toast.

"How about this," she continued, looking down at the girl, who met her gaze with a mix of hope and fear and dreadful curiosity in her eyes. Her body ached to see it. "You and Thor go look at his muscle-building book collection, then you and I will talk. If you want to stick around for a bit, I can get you some new clothes, a car, money- you can keep going the way you are but better prepared."

The girl frowned. "Or?"

"Or?"

"There's always an "or"."

"No "or". You can take what I give you and go. At least to give me some peace of mind." The girl looked confused but didn't ask, and Natasha didn't feel like explaining. She let go of the girl and stepped back, putting her arms around herself. Maybe if the girl stayed, she could teach her something. How to defend herself _without_ using… whatever it was she had. Teach her some life skills for goodness' sake. How not to walk into dark alleys alone, or if she did, how to ward off attackers. A small girl like her, with her face, in this world- in this city- if she couldn't take care of herself, she had no chance wandering the streets. None at all.

Thor took her dishes and the girl slid off the stool, slipping past Natasha with all the room she could spare. As they walked into the hallway, the girl stopped and looked back. Natasha felt cold when the full focus of that stare hit her.

"Don't touch me again," she said, and then, as if to mute the sharpness of it, added "Bad things happen to people who do." Then she was off after Thor, who'd poked his head back in the hall to see where she'd gotten to.

Natasha stared after them, wondering what she'd done.


	3. Chapter 3

**:: As you'll see, I've taken liberties with the layout of their apartment/tower. I like the idea of a double-story penthouse sort of layout, so it doesn't match as it looks in the movies. ::**

 **:: Also, I'm going to post regularly from now on. You can expect a new chapter every Monday. Hopefully around the same time. Question for anyone who reads regularly- would you prefer to get longer chapters? How do you feel about the length? ::**

Natasha was half-asleep on the sofa when Thor and Rogue came back. The girl was visibly happier, even smiling a little when Thor said something to her and went off, presumably to his room. He spent most of his time working out or cooking or reading and having someone to share his interests with, even if for only a few minutes, must have been nice. She watched the girl closely as she came into the room, standing awkwardly at the end of the couch and crossing her arms over herself. Self-conscious. Anxious. Afraid. No. Not afraid. Just apprehensive.

"I-" the girl began, and paused. "It's been a long time since I've met anyone like him." She jerked a thumb back to the hallway. Natasha nodded.

"Thor's one-of-a-kind," she said.

"You're the Avengers," the girl said.

"Yes," Natasha said, more slowly.

"Ah." The girl looked down at her feet. Natasha waited. Finally she muttered something to herself and looked up. "I'm sorry, but- could I-" She hugged her elbows and glanced away. It wouldn't take a mind reader to see what she wanted.

"Of course."

Her eyes could not have gotten any bigger. Natasha's heart ached at the bruising beneath them, only made darker by the sudden paling of relief. If anyone needed food, and rest, and a huge Norse god-boy shoving magazines in their face, it was this girl. She looked and acted like she'd never been loved, or if she had, perhaps had been wronged in some way. And Natasha understood being wronged.

It's okay, baby. I know.

"Is there anyone you need to call?" she asked, gently. "To let them know you're not coming home?"

"No." Her voice was small, but harsh. Natasha didn't press further.

"Well… let me show you around," she said, rising off the couch.

The girl was an attentive enough listener, following a few steps behind Natasha as they circled the apartment. The lower floor was small enough that she hung back in the hall as each room was pointed out. The foyer and living room, the kitchen, the full bathroom under the stairs, her room right next to it, Banner's after hers, and Thor's on the end beside another half-bath. The wide, windowed stairwell made her eyes go round, and Natasha paused halfway up to let her get her fill of the view. She had had the same expression, more or less, the first time she was here. It was incredible what humans were able to make- how they were able to suspend themselves so far above the ground. And get water all the way up- practically magic.

When the girl was done looking, they continued up. There was another bathroom right at the top of the stairs, and a hallway running the length of the upper floor. At one end, past the bathroom, was Steve's room, and Barnes' was beside it, across from Wanda and Petros'. Petro and Wanda had been gone for a month, presumably overseas, with no intention of returning anytime soon. Barnes was off on his own, as usual, or had tagged along- she didn't quite know, or keep close enough track to tell half the time. Their rooms served as guest bedrooms or storage space.

At the other end of the hall were two more empty rooms, and then Tony's- the largest, of course, and the most opulent, though neither could be seen at the moment- the door was closed.

Between the two ends was an open sitting area and office nook, where a couple laptops were stacked on a dusty table among a mess of loose papers and the occasional sketch- Steve had basically adopted that corner.

When the tour was over, she led the girl into the sitting area, what they collectively called the game room, where the most impressive window was. It was enormous and curved slightly outward, and had a comfortable bench set into the sill. This had been filled with pillows and throw blankets so that it was almost too much work just to sit down. The girl seemed not to mind though, and adjusted the blankets around quickly in order to kneel on the bench and look out. Her gloved fingers gripped the edge of the window firmly- not afraid of heights, clearly, but cognizant of the danger all the same.

"Who owns this place?" she asked, in a voice much stronger than before.

"Tony does."

She nodded. This wasn't a surprise, obviously- Tony made none of his spending habits private. "And you live here too?"

"We all do."

"All the Avengers?"

"Well, most of us. Some of us don't come back very often, or live elsewhere."

"Don't you get tired of sharing?"

Natasha smiled. The girl didn't smile back. "Sometimes." When she didn't say anything else, but returned to looking out the window, Natasha turned and went to one of the hall closets. She came back with an armful of blankets and sheets, which she dumped into the girl's arms the moment she turned around. "Here. You can have the room at the end, on the left." The twins kept the least decorations, and she expected the room would feel least like a stranger's.

The girl took the pile hesitantly, and when it became clear Natasha wasn't moving, she headed off down the hall. The door clicked open faintly, then closed.

Natasha waited.

The door opened again and the girl came back out. "Just one more question," she said, her eyebrows furrowed together like she was deep in thought. "Last night, in the alley- what, um- what all did you see?"

"I passed the alley in the dark, I didn't see too much. Just you passed out on the ground. There were some footprints around, and some drag marks- like maybe someone was pulled away. But not much more." Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Is there anything you wanted to talk about?"

The girl shook her head. "No. That was it." She turned quickly and went back to her room. The soft click of the door eased Natasha's mind. Giving the big window one last glance, she put her hands in her pockets and headed back down the stairs.

###

Around eight o'clock, Natasha heard keys in the door, and soon voices filled the other end of the apartment. She was in the middle of hand-mixing a bowl of meatloaf, and was therefore caught off guard when Steve, Banner and Barnes came into the living room, laughing uproariously about something. Steve and Banner were laden with bags and swag from the convention, dressed all in brilliant colors with logos on them, while Barnes wore a ball cap pulled low over his eyes and a dark jacket, and carried nothing but a McDonald's bag. All three paused seconds after each other, seeing the newcomer sitting at the bar.

"Hey Nat," Steve said, juggling his bags around and nodding to her. He glanced at the girl at the bar, but didn't say anything, only gestured toward the stairs and headed off to put his bags down. Barnes didn't seem to notice the girl at all, just slipped into the kitchen and around Natasha to stick his bag in the fridge. Banner was the only one who lacked any social awareness, and so he was the one standing and staring long after what was acceptable. And therefore when the girl finally turned around to see if there was anyone else, he was there, awkwardly smiling in greeting.

"Hi," he said, to the girl and then to Natasha he said, "Who's this?"

"This is Rogue," Natasha said, shifting over a step as Barnes leaned past her to get a cup. "She's going to be staying with us for a little while."

"Ah." Banner hesitated.

"She's harmless."

The girl's head jerked up, and the two women exchanged a glance. The girl looked back down at her hands.

"I found her passed out in an alley," Natasha continued. "And I brought her back to recuperate."

"Ah-huh.."

"How was the convention?"

"Oh!" His face lit up and he came up to the bar. The girl shifted away but he paid no mind as he laid out a few things on the laminated wood. Natasha recognized the figurines as miniatures of the others- a tiny blue-and-white shield-wielding Cap; a bright green and purple-shorted, slightly larger, statuette of Banner in his other form; a flowing-haired, caped Thor mid-hammer smash. He lined them up proudly and dug around in his bags until he found another, a scarlet-haired and black-suited plastic figure of her. That one she didn't look at.

"I couldn't find the whole set," he said, "but that's okay. I have a couple from the last one."

"Good job," she said. Behind her, Barnes took a quiet sip of his water. She could feel the heaviness of his curiosity, and she cleared her throat loudly before looking at Banner again. "I'm making dinner. If you don't want to help, I'd suggest going to put those away."

"I don't mind helping."

"I'll make you cut the onions."

He shrugged and began gathering up his toys.

The girl was staring behind her, and she glanced back to see that she and Barnes had locked eyes. His gaze slid off her to pierce Natasha. She was struck, as always, by just how dead his expression could be without his indicating any expression at all. "Your name is Rogue?" he asked the girl, without moving his eyes from Natasha's.

"Yes," she said.

"This is-" Natasha began.

"I know who he is."

Barnes pushed off the counter and moved around Natasha to the counter before the bar. She returned to kneading the meat, but slower than before, both ears trained on their conversation.

"Who am I?" he asked her.

"You're the broken Avenger." There was anger and a test in the words.

A stiff moment passed. "Where she'd dig you up?" Barnes asked. His voice was even and cool.

The girl murmured something. He coughed- it could have been a laugh. "Yeah, she does that," he replied dryly. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

They stood in silence for minute. The tension slowly evaporated. Natasha moved to the sink and washed off her hands and wrists. The water was cold and it sluiced the blood, spices and ketchup from her skin easily.

"Where you staying?"

The girl told him the room. He nodded. "Good one." He came to the sink and put his cup down in the side Natasha wasn't using. She could feel him staring at the back of her head as he went by. Then he was gone, and she stood still, listening to the sound of footsteps moving around above her head. Steve shouted something, and Barnes shouted back, sounding as though nothing had happened.

"Is that everyone?" the girl asked. The question was unexpected, and Natasha shook herself out of her thoughts.

"Yes," she said, "it should be. That's everyone who's regularly here, anyway."

The girl stared down at the bar. "I don't think I can do this." Her voice was quiet, and Natasha knew the sentence wasn't meant to be heard. She didn't say anything about it, but went back to preparing the meatloaf.

 **:: As always, any questions, comments, critiques and criticisms are greatly appreciated! ::**


	4. Chapter 4

**:: Another chapter for you guys, for having to wait so long. ::**

 _The room was dark. That was an understatement. The room was so dark, in fact, that when the girl lifted her arm and brushed her nose with her fingers, she couldn't see the outline of her own hand. It was the kind of darkness that could eat you alive, and it made her want to scream._

 _But if she screamed, they would find her faster._

 _She straightened up from behind the desk and felt her way to the wall. From there, she moved at a crouch around the room to where she knew the door was. The classroom wasn't very large and ironically, she found it easiest to hide in smaller rooms. Yet they kept loosing her in places full of tiny hiding spots._

 _The hallway was just as dark as the room had been. She moved quicker here, though- she knew every step of the slick tiled floor. She'd memorized it with her toes, tracked and traced the lines of linoleum barefoot until her feet bled. There was no inch of this building she had not covered in her attempts to outsmart them._

 _It was only this last time that she'd become convinced it wasn't possible._

 _They'd found her in minutes. She'd become so used to evading for hours, even catching naps in the corners of janitors' closets and open air conditioning vents, that she grew lax with her hiding, and they snatched her up in no time. She'd fought kicking and screaming all the way out to the van._

 _It wasn't any use telling them that she couldn't see in the dark. No heat vision, no laser eyes, no thermal detection or x-ray lights of any kind. And they all wore thick suits when they came to fetch her, so there was no way for them to know that what they were searching for, they simply wouldn't find._

 _I can't do anything but kill, she wanted to tell them. And she had. She screamed it at the cell walls until her voice broke. But they didn't want to listen. There must be something more, they said to each other, when they thought she wasn't listening, slumped in the backseat of the ratty van. She'll break eventually._

 _I'm already broken, she whispered into the fur-covered seats._

 _By day she slept, and ate, and planned. By night she wandered hallways and memorized the groat on the walls. Sometimes she almost made it. Sometimes they almost slipped up. But they never did enough, and so she kept coming back. Over. And over. And over._

 _Today would be different. Not different like last time, when they plucked her from the air vents like a trespassing chipmunk. Different as in, she would make it out. And they would wonder how she did it, when all this time, she'd been floundering about like a fish out of water._

 _The reason was simple: one of her captors was wearing short sleeves._

 _She'd caught a glimpse of him as they carried her in. He stood off to the side, making experimental cracks with the whip they used to make her stop struggling. So he would be the one to come in and retrieve her, and therefore, he was going to die._

 _She would catch him in no time._

 _There were no more rooms to learn._

 _He had to find her when she wanted him to. That wouldn't be hard- she could hear him blundering around in the farthest hallway, what used to be the science wing. He was unused to the dark. She'd heard him shouting earlier about a flashlight. They weren't allowed to use them. That would make it harder for her to hide. They wanted her to hide. They wanted her to have hope. Hope was dangerous, and she could cry some nights with the weight of it._

 _He was coming closer. She ducked into a lab room. This one had windows that were all boarded shut and draped on the outside with thick black cloth. Many layers, most likely, because not a single ray of light made it through. None of the light switches worked either- her fingers slid over one as she made her way down the wall._

 _In the back were the lab tables, each one with a sink and a set of beakers and, as she'd discovered one night, briefly, before capture- one had a working bunsen burner._

 _She made for that one now, crouching down behind it and scooping up a beaker on the way down. A big, heavy one- she needed him to hear._

 _His footsteps were heavy, clumsy. Normally they were lighter on their feet, agile, like dancers- dancers dressed like ninjas in their long black clothes and covered skin. She hated them. But this one she loved, because his arms gleamed in the darkness as he passed the classroom, gleamed like a beacon, and she threw the beaker just as he disappeared from view._

 _The sound of it shattering was beautiful. The pieces sprayed and tinkled across the floor like an entire symphony, and she made herself very small behind the table as he came pounding, clutzily and ungainly, around the corner and into the room. His silhouette filled the doorway, though she couldn't see him, and could only hear his breathing._

 _He walked inside the classroom. He managed to bump into every desk he passed, and cursed and kicked as he did so. He stank like sweat and old food, and as he came near, she made herself very small. She would have to catch him perfectly, or the opportunity would be wasted._

 _He stepped right beside her. Another moment and he would feel her breathing on his legs._

 _She reared up and clapped both hands on his bare arm._

 _Pain surged like an ocean of blood._

###

The girl was screaming.

Natasha shot out of bed, stumbling out into the hall. The apartment was pitch black and through the windows, the twinkling lights of the city made a mockery of her thumping heart. She ran for the stairs, stumbling over the post of the stairs on the way.

The door to the girl's room was flung open, and standing outside was Steve, looking concerned but not alarmed- as Natasha pushed past him, she could suddenly see why.

The window was half-open and shattered, letting in a freezing breeze. The bedsheets were knotted and in a ball on the floor, as though tossed across the room, and curled into an equally crumpled ball beneath the window was the girl. Crouching beside her was Barnes, half-naked and covered in goosebumps, with his hand clamped tight around her bicep. Natasha almost panicked until she realized that the girl was wearing a long-sleeve shirt.

Barnes was speaking quickly to the girl, quietly and fiercely. She peered closer- in the dark it was hard to tell, but it seemed like the girl was crying. Her face was twisted with disgust and anger, blotchy and shining in the light of the moon.

"She was sleepwalking," Steve muttered in the dark behind her. "We came in and she was almost out the window."

She started to take a step forward, but Steve drew her back. "Don't," he whispered, barely a breath in her ear. "She almost killed him when he came in. Let them finish." He waved at Thor and Banner, who had just appeared on the stairs. They looked at each other, then plodded away back down. Natasha mirrored Steve, leaning just outside the door to wait.

Barnes' voice was insistent, irritated, and wouldn't stop. Every time he paused to take a breath, the girl snapped something at him. He refused to let go of her arm, though she repeatedly shook it, demanding its release.

Finally he must have said something that got through to her, because her body relaxed and, while she didn't seem to become any less angry, she did soften and wipe her face and he released her arm and leaned back, his own face giving away nothing. It had been wiped of emotion once again.

Natasha swatted Steve's hand away and entered the room. The girl looked up, made a noncommittal sound, and looked away again, folding her arms across her chest.

Barnes stood. His metal arm gleamed silver in the moonlight. "It's fine," he said. "I took care of it. Put her in another room." With that he swept past her and out of the room. Steve hesitated a moment longer before following suit.

"I don't want to go in another room," the girl said sourly. "I like the fresh air."

"Are you going to break another window?" Natasha asked. The relief she felt made her feel almost giddy.

"I didn't break it, he did!"

"Okay." Natasha kicked some of the glass aside with the side of her foot. "Do you want a room that doesn't have as much broken glass in it?"

"No. Just leave me alone!" The girl stood and threw herself back into the bed, rolling to face the wall. Natasha stood for a moment, quiet and worrying, over her, then turned and left the room. She was thinking on what to do when she heard a noise from Barnes' room. She crossed to his door and peeked inside.

He was sitting in his desk chair in the dark, spinning slowly. He paused and looked up when she peered in. He was the best at reading everyone, and at the look on her face, he got up slowly and went back out into the hall.

She left him sitting outside the girl's door and returned to her own room. Even knowing someone was keeping an eye on the girl, it took her forever to fall back asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**:: I'm late updating. Sorry about that! ::**

In the morning, the girl was gone.

This shouldn't have been a surprise, but Natasha found herself stinging with just how surprised she really was. She looked over the bedroom one last time, as though she would find clues as to where she went, before heading out into the hall. Steve and Barnes were arguing downstairs, or maybe just discussing something very animatedly. She listened to them absently as she went down the hall to Tony's room. His door was still closed, and now that she thought about it, she hadn't seen him come out last night after dinner, or even during the screaming episode. Could he be asleep? No, there was no way he could have slept through that. She tapped the doorknob with a fingernail, considering.

"Problem?"

Tony, wrapped in a fluffy white robe, mouth full of toothpaste, stood behind her with his eyebrows comically high. She shook her head.

"What's wrong with your sink?"

"Pepper left all her stuff out on the sink and I'd rather not get electrocuted." He brushed his teeth a little, then gestured to the door with his toothbrush. "Something you need?"

"No." She brushed past him and went downstairs. His door clicked shut, and Pepper's murmuring voice followed her down and around the corner.

"-and they still didn't understand so I just-"

Steve and Barnes both stopped talking as she entered the living room. It smelled like burnt toast and eggs, and she breathed lightly through her mouth as she went to the couch. Her purse was sitting on the back, as was the light coat she'd been wearing last night at the bar. It smelled like beer and rain.

"Nat, are you alright?" Steve asked. He was leaning over the bar, peering out at her. Barnes had his back to her, steadily pouring out lopsided pancakes on the griddle.

"I'm fine." She hooked the coat over her arm and slung her purse over her shoulder. "I'm going out."

"Now?"

"Did either of you see Rogue leave this morning?"

They exchanged a look. "No. Why? Is she gone?"

"Yes, she isn't in her room."

"Have you asked Bruce? Maybe he saw her."

Banner was always up before anyone else. It was possible he could have seen her. She returned to the stairs but he was already on his way down, looking disheveled and distracted- as usual. He smiled when he saw her though and opened his mouth to say something.

"Did you see Rogue leave?"

His smile dropped into a frown. "No. Is she gone?"

"Yes, I just checked her room. She isn't in the bathroom either."

"I don't know, I… I mean, I was up this morning, but I didn't hear anything. I'm sorry." He shifted uncomfortably between both feet. "She didn't seem like she even wanted to be here, though- you had to have noticed that. Right?"

"I'm going to go look for her."

"Do you want me to come with you?" he called after her. A moment later, he joined her in the elevator, yanking his hoodie on over his head.

The sidewalks were busy already and she weaved her way effortlessly through the crowd. Banner followed at a distance, slower in large groups but still able to keep up. She barely paid him any mind as she surveyed the sea of faces for the one she already knew she wouldn't find. She didn't know when the girl had left or where she would have gone, and with that much of a head start, and that many variables, it would be nearly impossible to find hide or hair of her. It was like searching for a needle in a haystack. Except the needle could have left the haystack hours ago for all she knew.

They searched a few restaurants along the main drag, then took a cab across the city to where she'd met the girl in the first place. Banner said very little the whole time, watching both her and the street in his quiet, nervous way. She appreciated his respect of the situation and while she couldn't spare the energy to thank him now, later she would have to. His presence kept her calm.

It was about two in the afternoon when they stopped. They were both hungry, and Banner's gentle voice of reason finally suggested that they return to the apartment and eat something. Natasha reluctantly agreed it was a good idea and they moved to the curb to hail another taxi.

Steve and Barnes were gone when they got back, but Tony was in the living room, some toy of his taken apart and spread across the floor. They both mumbled apologies as they crossed the minefield of fragile, expensive parts and made their lunch.

Banner had things to do, and he excused himself after a little while of eating in silence. Natasha finished alone and then went to her room, where she lay out on her bed and closed her eyes. It was alright. The girl would be okay. She could take care of herself, she supposed. She'd made it this far! It was just frustrating that she had begun to think she would be able to help the poor thing and then she just up and vanished. It would bother her for weeks, she knew. She might not even stop looking for her for the rest of this one. It was habit- if one of your number disappears, a part of your mind searches for them forever.

###

Eight o'clock. Tony and Pepper were out on a date. Banner was off doing his own thing somewhere in the apartment. So Natasha, Steve, and Barnes were eating by themselves. Leftovers, which were always a struggle in this house: Thor could eat like a starving horse and Steve was no better, and Barnes had a little bit of everything but managed to dirty at least six spoons in the process. Natasha just tended to take from whatever was left. She picked at a chunk of meatloaf now, more interested in Steve's potato tower than her own rubbery meal.

"I think I'm going to write a book," Steve said, as he adorned the top of his tower with a piece of parsley.

Barnes snorted. "A book? You don't even write."

"I could."

"You could certainly illustrate it," Natasha said, rolling a piece of her meatloaf around with her fork. "What do you want to write about?"

"I'm not sure yet. Maybe something to do with the stuff that's been going on recently. You know, the gender thing. The bathrooms?"

"Ah."

Barnes shrugged. "I still think you can't write."

"Well we'll see about that, won't we."

They ate in silence for a little while. Steve chewed loudly, while Barnes made good, quiet work of his pasta. Natasha poked at her food.

"You should come to the next convention," Steve said. Barnes gave him a look that Natasha was both amused and disturbed to see. It was not a pretty one, and Steve closed his mouth and went back to eating. It didn't last long though. "I mean, you like video games. And comics. It's just a lot of that, in one place."

"They wear costumes."

"Not everyone does."

"There's too many people."

"You get lunch at McDonald's every day. There's always a ton of people there."

"That's not the point."

"That's what you just said!"

Natasha got up to scrape her plate. The sink was full of the day's dishes and she didn't feel like washing any of them, so she just balanced her own on top and adjusted a pot so the whole thing didn't come crashing down. Then she returned to the table to finish her milk.

"-and if you came, then we could carry more stuff! There's so many collectibles," Steve was explaining to a somehow even less enthused Bucky. His expression was just so DONE that Natasha couldn't help but laugh. The way they looked at her, Steve grinning and Barnes with one eyebrow raised, made her suspect they'd enacted their whole argument on purpose.

"Have fun, boys," she said, putting her glass away. "I'm going to bed."

"Goodnight, Nat," Steve said, leaning back in his chair. She squeezed his shoulder as she passed behind him. Barnes watched her go with his deadpan expression, nothing she wasn't used to. But she smiled at him too.

She put on some sweatpants and a tank top and got into bed, turning the lights off from the switch by her bed. As she lay there in the dark, she could hear and predict all that was going on in the apartment. Steve and Barnes would be cleaning up their dinner, putting away leftovers, and going to the living room to play games. Banner would sneak downstairs at some point to get food, then join the others to watch them play for awhile. Tony and Pepper would get back sometime later and head up to bed. Thor, who had eaten before them and was probably asleep already, would wake up later and feed himself a second time, then work out until three am and go back to sleep.

What would she do? She didn't do anything at night.

She stared up at the ceiling. She'd memorized the whorls in the paint months ago. She'd spent a week doing just that every time she went to bed. It was as familiar to her as her own hands. She'd considered putting pictures up there, somehow- but of what, she had no idea.

From the living room, she could hear a faint ringing.

Ringing?

She sat up. Steve and Barnes had gone quiet. If it was one of their phones, they would have answered it already. It kept ringing. The apartment felt strangely quiet, and the sound was alien, disruptive.

It was her phone.

She swung her legs out of bed and walked slowly into the living room. Steve was holding her phone, trying to guess the number calling. He handed it to her with a shrug. "I don't know," he said, and she lifted it to her ear and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Please come get me." The girl's voice was thick with tears and pain. She was barely able to gasp out the words. Every nerve in Natasha's body fired at once- she was moving in a second, rushing back to her room, changing, grabbing one of her guns from the side table.

"Where are you, sweetheart?" she asked, putting the gun in her sweatshirt pocket and opening her bedroom door with her shoulder. Steve and Barnes were both on their feet, shoes on, alert and prepared. They shadowed her as she moved out to the elevator.

"I don't know." The connection was fuzzy, and her voice skipped in and out. "I'm in a bathroom. In a bar- the…. Silver something? I just woke up, and-" A sniffle. A cough. "It stinks in here."

"Okay, we're coming." Steve punched the button for the ground floor and the doors slid shut. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"I'm okay. I just… my head hurts. My stomach..." The connection fuzzed again, her voice growing faint and then strong again. "I think I had too much to drink."

"We'll be there soon, okay? Just stay there."

"I…" The girl hesitated. Natasha could hear the distant sounds of people laughing and a glass shattering. "There was a man. He was looking for me. I hid in here, I think- and-" She coughed again. "I don't know, I don't- my head is all fuzzy."

"Don't talk then. Just stay on the phone and wait, we'll be right there."

Natasha lowered the phone and looked at Barnes. "What bar is called Silver something?"

"Silver Nickel?"

Of course. "That sounds right." She lifted the phone again. "You still there, honey?"

Faintly, "Yes."

"Just relax. We're coming to get you."

###

Barnes, not the most comfortable in large group settings and easily the most recognizable, remained outside, while Steve and Natasha went in. There was some excitement when they were noticed but it was put down quickly, through some hasty explanations of distant cousins and similar appearance stories. Steve stood outside the door to the women's bathrooms while Natasha went in alone.

Only one of the stalls was occupied. A few girls were standing by the sinks, talking about something, and all of them sized Natasha up before returning to their conversation. Their voices faded to a dull hum in her mind as she went to the last stall and knocked lightly on the door.

"Rogue?" she whispered. "Are you in there?"

The door opened, and the girl sat back down on the bathroom floor. She was pale and soaked with sweat, and her hair stuck to her face, her neck and the bathroom wall. Natasha slipped inside and closed the door, ignoring the titters of the girls who were watching.

She knelt on the floor beside Rogue and looked her over. She was clearly out of it, but aware enough to ask for some water.

"I'll get you some when we get home. Come on." She helped Rogue to her feet and they went slowly out together. The other girls, who had apparently decided the scenario seemed normal enough, went back to their original discussion. The door closing behind her locked their voices out for good.

Steve offered to carry her, but Rogue showed such distress over the suggestion, even in her detached state, that they eventually decided against it and just supported her out of the bar. Barnes wasn't directly outside but came up from the street when he saw them, from where he'd been talking to a group of guys smoking cigarettes. Their group melted back together seamlessly when he'd gone.

When they finally got back to the apartment they sat her on the couch and Natasha got her a glass of water. Barnes retreated to an armchair, where he picked absently at his nails, and Steve went to go wash the dishes. Both were paying close attention, however, as Natasha got blankets and pillows and made Rogue comfortable. She didn't want to put her upstairs, sequestered away, while she was feeling this way. And the comment about the man had her worried.

She wanted to ask her questions, but Rogue was so tired and barely answering already that she didn't try.

When the girl was asleep, she spoke quietly with first Steve, then him and Barnes together, to tell them everything was fine, and they broke off one by one to their separate rooms. She left her door open a crack as she changed once again and got into bed.

She awoke some time later, for no reason she knew, but she was used to it. Her clock said it was 1:47 in the morning. Rolling over, she noticed that the living room light was on. Slipping out of bed, she made her way quietly down the hall and peeked out.

Sitting on the floor beside the couch was Thor, and blinking sleepily with her head on his shoulder, was Rogue. She'd strategically placed a pillow between her cheek and his bare shoulder, and both held very still as Thor flipped through the pages of a big travel book, pointing out pictures and talking about them. Natasha realized that he was showing her places the Avengers had been. Rogue didn't seem to be paying much attention- she was half-asleep and looked far too comfortable to be listening. But there was a small smile on her face, and she managed to make an "mhm" sound every time he glanced sideways at her for acknowledgement. There was a fresh, half-empty glass of water by the couch, and a plate of snacks that Thor had likely come out to get for himself.

She didn't smile, but her heart hurt to watch the scene.

Slowly, reluctantly, she turned and went back to bed.


	6. Chapter 6

_The first day was the hardest. She hadn't been on the streets in a long time, and it felt like shoving a square peg into a round hole- forcing all the old habits, but seeing everything now through the lens they'd slipped over her eyes. Panic, maybe. Or just an anxiety about everything. Every dumpster slapped closed, every child racing down the sidewalk in clapping shoes, women laughing into their phones, men stepping up quickly to the curb, calling for a taxi. It jarred, it was unnerving, it made her skittish as fuck- she could feel an unfamiliar edge creeping into her mind, whispering away at her every chance it got (which was usually while she was awake)._ They're coming to get you, _it hissed, as she rummaged through trash cans and slipped along the street where the buildings were clustered together._ You're not safe out here. You have to hide. _She couldn't hide. There was nowhere_ to _hide._

 _There were men, at first. They were attracted to her like flies to meat, rotting in the sun, and after awhile she learned to stay clear. She would be sipping a soda, or later, a beer at some bar and a guy would sidle up and start a conversation, and she never had the strength or energy at that point to turn them away. So she would entertain them, and they would take that as some sort of consent, occasionally offering to buy her something more to drink. That, at least, she was able to decline._

 _Once in a while, there were women too, and somehow they were even worse._

 _That's what she thought this woman was, the first moment she noticed her at the bar. She was trying to make her drink last, as she'd used her last bit of cash to buy it, and was contemplating where to sleep that night when she felt the familiar tingle over her skin, like someone was watching her. A quick scope of the bar behind her revealed no one, and then she looked directly to her left and the woman was sliding onto the barstool. She had hair like the sun, or no, more muted, like the color of blood, and her skin was pale as the bathroom mirrors. She ordered a glass of wine and raised it to her red lips, taking an elegant sip and surveying the room at the same time, as she herself had when she first came in._

 _When the woman's eyes settled on hers, her first instinct was to retreat. There was something there that spooked her. She was used to discomfiting gazes and unsettling stares, but there was an animal in the red haired woman that she recognized, and it terrified her._

 _But then the woman spoke, and she felt some of the anxiety leak out of her muscles._

" _Come here often?" The woman's mouth barely moved when she spoke, like she practiced ventriloquism every day in the bathroom, without a puppet. Her eyebrows lifted as she glanced sideways at her. "I didn't think so. I don't either. Too loud." She set her glass down, slowly, like she was savoring the sound it made as it tinked against the wood of the bar, and then the full weight of her attention landed on her._

 _She squirmed._

" _You're new here, aren't you?"_

 _She looked down into her drink. Some days she was tempted to throw herself on the steps of a church and beg for someone to take her confession. Some days she wanted to throw herself off a bridge. Some days she wanted to turn in slow circles and listen to some sort of music - maybe pop, maybe jazz - as loud as it could go, so it would drown out her own thoughts. Some people felt like preachers, in that regard- some people felt like a bridge. This woman felt like the headphones._

 _No. Like the music. Loud enough to cover the truth, quiet enough to remind her she was lonely. Quiet enough that she could still feel her heart beat._

" _Just came in today," she replied, softly. Then, when the woman didn't respond, she looked up. "Is it that obvious?" If she stood out at all, she was a target. That's what she'd learned. And obviously she was target enough, because this woman had found her._

" _Just a little. You stick out like a sore thumb, honey."_

 _Time passed. She rolled her glass between her fingers. The woman hummed some song to herself and engaged in small talk with the bartender. At some point, she felt a tap on her shoulder, and she was so startled she almost fell off her stool._

" _Hey." The woman was staring at her, her eyes wide and piercing. "Do you need anything? Money, food-" She didn't blink, and there was something bright and dark and urgent in her voice. It frightened her to no end._

 _Her heart leapt into her throat. She had to lick her lips before she could respond with a steady voice. "I'm fine. Thank you though."_

" _Well, if you change your mind…" The woman leaned back and returned to her own thoughts._

 _Her skin was crawling. She needed to get out of here. One person taking this much interest was too much. Way too much. She waited a few minutes, so the woman wouldn't think anything was wrong, but at the ten mark, she'd had enough. She slipped off the stool, leaving a couple quarters on the bar for a meager tip. As she passed the front tables, she hiked her hood up over her head, and therefore didn't have to look at anyone while she went out._

 _She didn't need to see them to feel their stares on her back as she left._

 _They caught up to her in the alley just outside. They could sense her presence, or her fear, and they fed on it, shot it up like a drug. They surrounded her, five of them, big- she could smell the alcohol and smoke so strongly it was as though she'd licked it off their greasy coats. She scraped her tongue with her teeth, willing the taste away, and backing up against the wall at the same time._

 _Two of them were women. The betrayal stung her to the core._

" _If you just come slowly," one of them said, "nobody has to get hurt."_

" _I won't be the one getting hurt," she said. And she almost believed it._

 _They weren't the toughest minions she'd had to take down, but they fell the easiest of any. She dragged their bodies one by one into the shadows between the dumpsters and covered them with half-empty trash bags. Then she searched their pockets. None of them held anything identifying, which was surprising as they'd been able to order enough alcohol to drown a small midwestern town. She wrinkled her nose as she rifled through their pants- some loose change, little metal buttons off one of their jackets, a slip of paper with an address written on it- this she pocketed._

 _Her body ached. She had to sit down against the brick wall and take a breath, pressing both hands against the sides of her head. Air rushed into her lungs like a blessing. She focused on breathing. One breath, two, seven…._

 _She went to stand up and the ocean surged through her spine. It struck her eyes like a hammer and the world went dark._

 _###_

 _She came to later. The light was somehow different, for night, and her body was so stiff that she had to have been laying there for a couple hours. She rubbed her eyes and stood up, holding the wall for support. Snow was falling, lightly blanketing the trash bags between the dumpsters. With any luck, the bodies wouldn't be found until morning. Groaning with the pain, she felt her way to the nearest dumpster and stood herself up straight. Everything was pins and needles and blurring, and she didn't notice the goons approaching her until they were upon her._

 _Four of them this time. Two of them were armed, they had their guns drawn already- somehow they'd known what had happened to the others. Or… were they the same? Were they from somewhere else? She couldn't tell, but she thought they were dressed differently. It could have just been her fuzzy brain- it was having some trouble forming proper thoughts._

 _They surrounded her. She swam in a spotty pool of deja vu. One of them, this one with a gun, lifted it and aimed at her face. She licked her lips. She could almost taste the crisp metal of the barrel against her teeth. The taste would be familiar. The face behind it was too. He… ah. She smiled. He was the one she'd thought she killed in their maze-prison. The one with the whip._

 _He knew she knew, and he spat at her. Her smile vanished._

" _Wes, the cuffs," he snapped at someone behind him. Another man stepped up, shaking a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket._

 _He came near, and she aimed a kick at him. He swatted her leg away and stepped closer, and this time she swiped at him with one hand. His real feelings were voiced in a sudden shout, and she felt relieved that she could still scare them._

 _A car's headlights washed the alley in white. Whip Guy's head arched back, temporarily blinded. He blinked. She felt her lips peel back from her teeth. She ripped her gloves from her hands and, with no regard for how weak she was or the state she would be in after, leapt._

 _Her bare palms stuck to his cheeks like they were magnetized. He writhed under her touch. He wanted to scream. He couldn't breathe. She told him she understood even as he collapsed, dragging her down with him. The other three were panicking, one leaped forward to try and shove her off. She ripped her hand from Whip Guy's face and grabbed his ankle, temporarily bare in the sweeping of his jeans. He yelped and tripped, hit the ground beside her._

 _The other two were running. Her head was fuzzy again, swirling viciously, the world coming in and out of focus. Her skin was on fire. Whip Guy wasn't moving. He was dead. Wes wasn't moving either, but he wasn't quite dead yet. She pushed herself away from both of them and fell onto her back, needing the pain and the cold to snap herself back to reality._

 _Only reality didn't come._

 _Snowflakes fell into her eyes, and she dreamed that she saw a cloud of red pass over the moon._

 _###_

"Who do you think is after her?"

Rogers glanced up at her over the lettuce heads. "After who?"

"The girl. Rogue."

"Ah. I have… no idea." He picked up a package of cherry tomatoes, looked them over, then held them up to her. "What do you think?"

"They look fine. She said there was a man in the bar. That he was looking for her. Do you think there have been more? That there could be more?"

"What I think," he said, moving on to a carrot display, "is that if she's in trouble, she'll tell you."

"She hasn't yet."

"Then she doesn't trust you enough."

She followed him through the rest of the produce section, arms folded. He took the most time shopping, like something as simple as a refrigerated food display still fascinated him. She doubted it. The truth was probably closer to his odd fascination with touching things. Vegetables, specifically.

He looked up from a rack of blueberries and smiled at her. "Cheer up, Nat. She'll come to you if she needs to. Until then… let it be."

He was the first one she'd brought her concerns to. Not necessarily because he knew the most, or was the best at guessing- she'd go to Banner if she needed the process of elimination. But he was the only one that would take her questioning and worrying in this way- calm, almost disinterested, though she knew that he was fully listening.

"Honestly," he continued, as they moved out of produce and into the dairy, "I think she's just a… troubled, gifted girl who needs a place to crash for awhile. I don't think she really wanted to end up living with a bunch of the highest profile people around." He gave her his serious eyes then, and she shrugged. He looked away, scouting for the milk. "If someone _was_ looking for her, then she wouldn't want the chance to end up on the news."

"You're right."

He laughed. Steve's laugh was always a pleasant surprise- somehow deeper and rounder than anyone ever expected. "I'm right? You're going to admit that?"

"Of course."

There were a couple of older women perusing the butter and sour cream, and they stood aside to wait. Steve watched them decide with a wistful look on his face. If Tony was there (imagine! Tony grocery shopping) he would have made a senior citizen joke. But she knew he was just enjoying the normalcy of other people. Older people. They were a weakness of his. A jokeworthy one, she supposed, and she tried to think of something funny to say but then it was too late. The old ladies moved away and Steve swooped in, grabbing the butter tub he'd already decided on. He returned to her with a smile. "What's next?"

"Shouldn't I ask you that? You're the soccer mom."

They went through the cereal, dry foods, soups and bread aisles, ending back up in the frozen meat and deli section. Steve picked out some ground beef, chicken legs, and turkey burgers for Pepper, and he sent her to grab a bag of potatoes that he'd forgotten. Then, with a decently full cart, they headed for the registers.

As usual, there were some look as they got in line. Natasha was used to them and kept her gaze on the magazines most of the time, occasionally making brief and dark eye contact to turn them away. But Steve was out the least of them, and was still utterly oblivious to the attention he got. Even now, he didn't notice the big-eyed stares of the twin teenage girls a few registers down, standing behind their mother and their shopping cart. He was flipping through a crossword book until she poked him in the side. He glanced down at her, then over where she was gesturing.

He waved at the girls. They both blushed and looked away. He went back to his book.

"Can't take you anywhere," Natasha scolded.

He only grinned over "25 Complicated Animal Names".

###

The apartment was quiet when they got back. Thor was in his room working out, probably, by the sound of the moving weights; music was coming down the stairs from Tony's or Barnes' (Tony's, she realized, as Barnes was sitting in the kitchen with a big travel mug of coffee and a newspaper) and the girl was nowhere to be seen. Possibly upstairs napping in one of the other guest rooms.

Barnes didn't say anything as they entered. Steve clapped him on the back anyway, then, noticing something interesting in the newspaper, leaned down to read the article he currently had open. Natasha began to put the groceries away, first lifting all the bags one by one onto the island and then sorting them out to be refrigerated, put in the cabinet, etc.

"Oh, you don't have to-" Steve made to come over to help, but she waved him off. He went back to reading without another complaint.

When he finished, he straightened back up and made a contemplative noise. She glanced at him and he held out the newspaper. Barnes looked irritated that he'd been robbed of his reading material, and she held it up to hide his sour face.

FIVE FOUND DEAD IN ALLEY, she read. She could feel Steve analyzing the expressions on her face, and fought to keep herself emotionless. FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED. And, in smaller print, _ANY TIPS OR INFORMATION APPRECIATED._ She handed the paper back to Steve, and Barnes snatched it out of his hand. He scooped up his coffee and a sandwich that had been hiding behind his paper, and, stuffing the sandwich in his mouth and the paper under his arm, left the room.

"You think it's connected?" he asked quietly. She raised an eyebrow. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the hallway. "To her," he said.

"Could be. But there were only the two bodies in the alley when I got there," she said. His eyes widened, and she suddenly remembered she hadn't told him - or anyone except Tony - about the dead men. "Don't tell anyone," she warned him. "There were two dead men in the alley with her, and two ran off as I got there, but I didn't see any more."

"So… she's killed people?"

"Yes. I think - I know - they were there to take her. Or hurt her. Or worse." She twisted a plastic handle off one of the grocery bags. "I don't know why. That's why I was asking you earlier."

He nodded, thinking. He scratched the back of his head. "How did they die?" he asked.

She hesitated. "I still don't know."

A door opened in the hall, and they both went back to putting groceries away, keeping their faces blank. Steve might generally seem like an open book, but he could pull a pretty good stone face when he wanted to. She could understand the concern of anyone entering the room, then, with the both of them looking so serious- and when the girl came into the living room, she regretted defaulting to it.

The girl stopped in her tracks. She had dark circles under her eyes, and she looked like she needed a week's worth of sleep, but she looked clean and there was even some color in her cheeks. She didn't flinch from them, either, just sort of stood and shuffled her feet in the doorway.

"I, uh… water?" She sounded a bit out of breath, and her chest was a hair away from heaving.

Though worried, Natasha nodded and moved out of the way of the cabinets. Steve moved also, giving the girl a smile as she stepped between them. She didn't really return it, but her face may have moved a little in something close to a smile. She filled a glass of water and left the kitchen. Natasha caught a glimpse of limp wet curls on the back of her neck, and sweat on the back of her shirt, as she went back into the hallway.

"You don't think," she began, and Steve shook his head.

"No, I think they're working out together," he said. "Did you see her outfit?"

She thought back. She had hardly noticed- the girl was wearing a longsleeve tshirt and baggy sweatpants, and her hair, while still somewhat loose and messy, had been raked back into a low ponytail. She still had her gloves on, but she had clearly been recently doing some kind of physical activity- the breathing, the sweat.

And working out, she realized, made more sense than the alternative. She mentally kicked herself and went back to consolidating the bags.

"You're worrying about her too much," Steve said after a few minutes.

"She's killed people."

"Yes…" He thought for a moment. "But- maybe she didn't know what she was doing."

Natasha thought back to that moment, seeing the girl in the alley. That leap, the rage on her face, the fire in her eyes. The anger, the adrenaline, the fear- she had known exactly what she was doing. She'd known those men were going to die. And she'd done it anyway. What had driven her to that? They'd had guns, yes- were they going to kill her? Take her somewhere else?

Her thoughts were dark, and she didn't like them. The girl was fine for now. She forced the other thoughts away and tried to focus on her own hands, the familiar motions, Steve beside her, quiet and lost in his own thoughts, the both of them trying to lose themselves somewhere far away.


End file.
